With Love
by Sparkle-PagerStealer
Summary: A continuation in the story of the lives of Annie, Grace, and Oliver, with love.
1. Orphans Are Boys!

_My latest endeavor: Based upon the 1982 version of the movie Annie, this takes place right after Annie is kidnapped by her 'parents' and subsequently rescued. It will, for all intents and purposes, be a multi-chapter work. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own 'Annie', nor profit from the writing of this fic. _

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><p>Chapter 1: Orphans Are Boys!<p>

"_You didn't say you wanted a boy, sir. You just said an orphan…so I got a girl!" _

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><p>Oliver Warbucks sat across the desk in his study from the New York chief of police and chewed at the end of his cigar, which he had specially imported from Cuba. Or rather -he mused- Grace did, just as she maintained all other aspects of his estate. It had been a long, emotionally taxing evening, and as Oliver leaned forward to dip the tip of the Montecristo into his brandy glass, he allowed himself to wonder just when exactly his private secretary had gone from 'Miss Farrell' to 'Grace' in his mind.<p>

The minute hand on the clock upon the mantle emitted a steady tick as slowly the remainder of the evening had waned into the wee hours of the night in the aftermath of the day's events. The huge manor -though usually silent at this hour save for the wandering patrols of his bodyguards- was lit to high heaven and still bustling with activity. Oliver heard the click of heels outside the study door and found his attention immediately drawn to the sound; he felt his face grow warm as Grace slipped through the door and knew the burning heat at the tips of his ears had nothing to do with the decanter of brandy at his right hand. Clearing his throat, he sat up a little straighter as Grace turned to close the door behind her. She bowed her head, eyes downcast, quietly crossing the study to take her usual chair at the far corner of his desk as the police chief continued his dictation.

Oliver found himself staring, and quickly averted his focus to the portly man in front of him. Though Grace had been very much by his side throughout most of the evening's events, Oliver had barely spoken with her -really spoken- since she had pressed the Tiffany's box containing Annie's engraved locket into his palm the day before. A strange tightness had settled over his heart when Annie had rejected him, and in that moment Oliver had done merely what he did best: he had settled into the business of finding Annie's parents.

The rest of the day had passed in a blur; Oliver called for Grace and barked orders at every attendant within shouting range, ringing up J. Edgar Hoover, the chief of police, Walter Winchell, and even William Randolph to aid in spreading the word in the search for Annie's parents. In fact, Oliver had expended so much energy in an effort to dull the painful tugging of his newfound heartstrings that he had neglected to consider how this new turn of events would affect his secretary. It was Grace, after all, who had first convinced Oliver to house the orphan, though Oliver had wanted to exchange Annie for a boy. Why, it was Grace who had put the idea into his head when she'd asked if they could keep her permanently. Had he taken the opportunity to inquire as to her state of being throughout the ordeal, he would have realized that for Grace, these last forty-eight hours had been a special kind of hell…

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><p><em>Grace Farrell beamed as the Tiffany's clerk wrapped her purchase, unaware of the stares gained by her radiance. She was positively glowing, and her heart seemed to swell with happiness: <em>Oliver was going to adopt Annie!

_Grace carefully tucked Annie's new locket into her breast pocket, patting it for good measure as the manager wished her well. An attendant held open the door for her, and Grace nearly forgot to fasten her hat pin in her excitement. She thanked the man, gushing, and took The Asp's proffered hand, allowing him to help her into the Duesenberg from his vigilant and awaiting place upon the sidewalk. _

_When she'd returned, Grace had pressed the Tiffany's box into his palm, and Oliver had been so nervous. Annie was summoned from her karate lesson and Grace had excused herself, leaving Oliver and the young girl alone. But something was wrong. Oliver stood and walked onto the veranda, and Annie followed. Soon they returned, and when Oliver bellowed her name Grace had somehow known it wasn't a call to celebrate the happy news. He wanted the chief of police, and as Grace took the stairs two at a time, slipping deftly into secretary mode, her heart was already beginning to break. _

_The following morning, Grace had stood looking out from the balcony with a growing sense of despair. News of the search for Annie's parents had spread far and wide thanks to a special evening slot on Burt Healy's Radio Hour, and there was madness at the front gate. _

"_We've got to get her out of here, Mr. Warbucks! We can't expose her to this!" Grace's plea had turned to temporary relief when Oliver had nodded and asked her to prepare the autocopter. He'd whisked Annie away for a day at the White House, and as the autocopter pushed away from the ground and began its steady ascent, Grace found herself wishing she could go along, and never return. _

…_She'd interviewed 865 couples over the course of the day, and none of them had known about the other half of Annie's locket. _

_Grace had never realized how many dishonest people there were in New York. _

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><p>Now, late into the night -or, rather, very early in the morning- Grace sat across from Oliver in his study as the chief of police finished his dictation and toasted the night's heroic rescue, draining the last of his snifter in one gulp. Grace looked up from beneath the soft wisps of her hair and found herself caught up in Oliver's stoic gaze. She blushed, and then pointedly cleared her throat, causing Oliver to start. His chin very nearly slipped from his palm and -effectively pulled from his reverie- he stood to shake hands with the Chief and thank him for the concerted effort of his officers. Grace folded and unfolded her hands in her lap as Oliver walked the man to the door of his study, whereupon Punjab waited to see him out. Oliver thanked the Chief a final time and, after a brief farewell, quietly closed the study door after them.<p>

They were alone.

The study was quiet save for the same steady ticking of the clock, and Oliver moved further into his study, giving pause near Grace and seeming to wager internally before moving to the other side of his desk. The silence seemed to stretch between them as another minute ticked by and neither spoke.

"You're all wet."

Grace jumped as Oliver spoke, though his tone was warm. He seemed merely inquisitive, and she blushed deeply and bowed her head as she realized that her blouse did indeed cling damply to her in several spots.

"I bathed Annie myself, sir." She glanced at him briefly, though her gaze never quite met his own, "I gave Mrs. Greer the night off, I...I just couldn't seem to part from her."

Oliver seemed to absorb this, and nodded, his gaze traveling over her timid expression. The silence stretched between them again, and Oliver watched as emotion seemed to slowly overcome Grace and her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. He understood her fear: they had very nearly lost Annie that night. A moment passed; the last of its kind as Oliver resolved for good to do away with his vociferous, rigid front and admit his feelings.

"Grace?" he finally spoke, and Grace's gaze jerked up to stare at him hesitantly.

"Yes, sir?"

Oliver reached across his desk to still the worrisome movement of Grace's hands as she folded and unfolded them upon her lap.

"Call me Oliver."

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><p>The night was dark and warm. A gentle breeze stirred the lilac trees, and the fragrance from their carmine purple blossoms lent a sweet scent to the air. Oliver stood with Grace on the terrace and offered her a tender smile, reaching carefully to brush the backs of his fingers along the line of her jaw. Grace shivered, and Oliver pulled her close, allowing his gaze to drift out over the sweeping garden below as she laid her head against his shoulder. A dim rustle signaled Punjab's arrival -having found the study no longer occupied- as he took his place of watchful duty near the double doors leading to the grand hall. Grace sighed softly, so softly that the sound was almost lost amidst the distant hum of cicadas in the trees, and after a moment, Oliver spoke:<p>

"She thinks of you as a mother, you know."

"Oliver?" Her voice was questioning, and he could hear the hope suppressed beneath her tone.

"Annie," Oliver continued, "You've been like a mother to the girl. Surely you've noticed the…attachment."

Grace bowed her head, a shy but pleased smile tugging at her mouth.

"Yes," she admitted softly. Deep down in her heart of hearts, a part of her Grace knew was selfish wanted very badly to be Annie's mother. She glanced at Oliver carefully. He gazed down at her, his brow furrowed, and Grace thought that he might speak.

"Tonight, at the bridge…" Oliver's expression remained thoughtful, "I thought we'd lost her."

Grace's eyes grew suddenly bright and she bit her lip.

"It made me realize," Oliver became aware that he had taken Grace's hands in his own, and he plowed on seriously, searching for the right words, "That I…don't want to lose you…I-Don't cry!" he implored futilely, consternation leaking into his tone as, to his great bewilderment, Grace's bright eyes gave way to tears and she began to cry in earnest.

"I'm sorry, sir-"

"Oliver."

"Oliver," Grace corrected.

Tenderly, Oliver reached forward to cup her cheek in his palm.

"You care very much for her, don't you?" he asked softly.

Grace nodded, laying her hand over Oliver's own upon her cheek. She cast her glance downward, summoning the courage to look up and meet Oliver's gaze, her expression earnest.

"And for you," she admitted softly.

Oliver's dark eyes searched Grace's own cerulean gaze in the shifting moonlight that filtered between the gently swaying trees. With great care and adoration he leaned forward and placed his lips against her own. He smiled as he pulled away, his fingers gently brushing at a stray wave of her hair.

"I love you, Grace," Oliver confessed austerely.

Grace's voice was tender, and infinitely shy as she replied:

"I love you too, Oliver."


	2. Gonna Like It Here

Chapter 2: Gonna Like It Here

"_It's occurred to me that no matter how many houses I have, how many Rembrandt's, how many Duesenberg's, that unless I have someone to share it with, well, I might as well be back in Liverpool…broke." _

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><p>Breakfast the following morning was a splendid affair. Grace was the only member of the staff that took meals with Oliver Warbucks, and for the longest time, she had believed it was only because he lacked for proper company of his own. Whereas normally Grace would sit to the left of Oliver's place at the head of the table, taking quiet spoonfuls of her oatmeal as Oliver looked over his stocks, this morning she watched Annie dig happily into her pancakes, feeling nearly lightheaded with elation as Oliver affectionately gripped her hand beneath the table.<p>

"Annie," Oliver began finally, reluctantly looking away from Grace to settle down to business, "There's something that I-that is, _we-_" he corrected himself, "-well, _Grace and I_…" Oliver frowned as he struggled to express his intent, "would like to talk to you about."

Annie looked up from her pancakes and slowly lay her fork down with a puzzled expression, and Oliver cleared his throat. He glanced at Grace, who nodded and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze beneath the linen tablecloth, before continuing.

"Annie," he resumed, "Obviously there are some matters that need to be…addressed….after last night. Namely, er, the business of where you belong…"

Annie, unusually silent, cast a stricken glance at Grace, who quickly intervened.

"What Mr. Warbucks is trying to say, Annie-"

"Oliver," Oliver corrected gently, and Annie grew further confused at the correction as Grace nodded and continued.

"What Oliver is trying to say," she pressed, casting a reassuring gaze at the man, "Is that, now that certain factors have changed-"

"My parents," Annie supplied softly.

"Yes, Annie," Grace nodded sadly, "Your parents...Mr. War-_Oliver-_ would like to extend you a place to stay, in his home. Officially."

"If you'll have me," Oliver finished hopefully, pulling the Tiffany's box from his lapel and presenting it uncertainly to the girl.

A sly smile broke across Annie's face as she looked first to Grace and then to Oliver, her expression one of mingled hope and disbelief.

"Would I ever!" she exclaimed, leaping from her seat and throwing her arms around Oliver's neck. Oliver chuckled in surprise and embraced the little girl, and then smiled at Grace, whose eyes shone as she looked on happily.

"There's something else," Oliver announced, more confident now, "Something that, well, may come as a surprise. You see…" Oliver reached again for Grace's hand, before continuing, "Miss Farrell, I mean _Grace_," he corrected himself, before puttering off. There was a brief silence as Annie looked on perplexedly. "Well Annie, I know you once said that I didn't even know Miss Farrell's first name, but I do. It's Grace," Oliver noted unnecessarily, his words coming out in a rush, "And well, the truth of the matter is…we've grown quite close, you see."

Annie's expression grew quizzical as she seemed to catch on, glancing from Oliver to Grace and then down to their clasped hands.

"You mean…?" she breathed hopefully, turning back to Oliver with wide eyes.

Oliver grinned.

"Sliced bread," he confirmed pointedly, nodding to indicate Grace.

"_Sliced bread!" _Annie exclaimed gleefully, emitting a shriek and a giggle that quickly turned into giddy laughter as she and Oliver shared a knowing look. "Oh, Miss Farrell!" Giggling and talking a mile a minute, Annie launched herself at Grace, who appeared mystified by the exchange that had just taken place between Oliver and the little girl but was smiling broadly, none the less. Oliver smiled too, watching as Grace looked on with utter adoration as Annie danced about. Drawn to the commotion, Sandy bounded into the dining room, tail wagging, licking at Grace's hand and barking excitedly, adding to the mix. Oliver looked on contentedly, musing quietly at the idea that twenty years of hard work had never accumulated anything close to what a week spent with Annie had gained him: a family.

He smiled to himself as Annie bounded towards the open doors of the terrace, spilling happy exclamations at Punjab, and turned to Grace as she took his hand.

"Someone's pleased," Oliver chuckled.

"Very," Grace laughed, squeezing his hand affectionately as they looked after the girl. "Oliver?" she queried after a moment, her expression turning to one of mild confusion as she turned again to meet his gaze, "Whatever did she mean...'sliced bread'?"

To which Oliver laughed, a great, bellowing, happy laugh, and replied:

"Because, my dear. She knows," he explained lovingly, his usual serious tone playful, "that I think you," Oliver paused, leaning forward to cup Grace's cheek in his palm, before finishing, his expression soft: "...are the greatest thing since _sliced bread_."

After which Grace laughed -a joyous, beautiful sound- and blushed deeply.

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><p>It was Oliver who had first suggested it -the party- and Grace got to work on its execution right after breakfast. One might have argued they had cause for celebration...It was July 4th, 1932. What better way to celebrate than with a stupendously over-the-top Independence Day celebration? Or perhaps it was an Independence Day themed adoption party. Either way, it was one which, once Oliver succumbed to the notion, seemed to blossom into the perfect outlet for his newfound intentions.<p>

He found Annie outside on the terrace just before lunch, and he approached the little girl seriously, a grand idea at mind. Grace had been running about all morning, making phone calls and supervising the food preparation with Mrs. Pugh in the kitchens, while simultaneously tending to the daily demands of the estate. The house buzzed with an eager anticipation, though Annie, as children often do, remained blissfully unaware as to why.

"Annie," Oliver intoned, leaning forward to scratch Sandy behind the ears, "I've had an idea, something I'd…like you to help me with," he ended brightly, buoyed by the notion.

"Sure, Daddy Warbucks!" Annie grinned, "Do you need Sandy's help, too?" she asked hopefully, brushing off her dress as Sandy jumped up and placed both paws against her front, "He still likes to jump sometimes, but we're working on it!"

"Not today, just you," Oliver chuckled, tucking his hands behind his back and motioning for Annie to follow as he strode across the terrace. "You see, I need…an opinion, someone to help me make a choice."

"Sure!" Annie nodded eagerly, falling into step beside him.

"I've…well-" Oliver stopped, turning to the girl, and Annie pulled up short. "I'm going to ask Grace to marry me. Tonight."

Annie swelled.

"Oh, boy!" she exclaimed, causing the ever-watchful Punjab to smile to himself from his place on the veranda. "Gee, Daddy Warbucks, you sure don't waste any time! Miss Farrell's gonna be so happy!"

"I'm a busy man," Oliver smiled, "I'm rather impatient. I don't like to wait!" he insisted seriously, building steam. "I love Grace, I love you…power and capitalism be damned!"

Annie smiled eagerly, her expression anticipant.

"Are you gonna get her a ring?" she demanded excitedly, "Is that what you need my help for? Picking a ring for Grace?"

"It is indeed," Oliver indulged, grinning as Annie's eyes grew wide and she puffed out her chest importantly. Her new locket glittered against her collar in the sunlight, and she smiled as Oliver offered her his hand and together they strode off in the direction of the Duesenberg.

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><p>It was the perfect setup, Oliver noted satisfactorily. Grace was busy planning for the party, distracted from Annie and Oliver's mid-afternoon trip into the city, while Annie herself was distracted from the evening's plans by the prospect of choosing a ring for Grace. Oliver grasped Annie's hand as The Asp opened the car door, hardly noticing anymore how the crowd on the sidewalk seemed to part before him in awe as he led the ten year old through the bustle and into Tiffany's.<p>

"Oliver Warbucks!" The attendant practically fell over himself as they entered the jeweler's, "Good afternoon, sir!"

"Hello," Oliver replied, suppressing a wry smile, amused at the affect his presence seemed to have on the general public, "This is Annie." He motioned to the little girl that kept his hand, earning himself a strange look from the attendant, which was quickly -if not necessarily quick enough- recovered.

"Gee, you've sure got a lot of nice stuff!" Annie noted, the shine of the nearest display case sparkling in her wide gaze. The salesman glanced at Annie distractedly, noticed Oliver's wandering eye, and quickly strode out from behind the counter.

"We've got a very nice selection of cufflinks right over here, sir-"

"I'm not here for cufflinks," Oliver frowned. The idea irked him…_Shopping for his own cufflinks…_Why -he realized with a start- sometime in the four years since he'd hired Grace he'd stopped making trips to Fifth Avenue for any sort of the little nuisances his wardrobe so often required. Grace did all of his shopping for him. Distracted, a moment passed as Oliver marveled at her competence. Why, he hadn't been sized for a suit or jacket in _years. _Everything he needed was always just…_there_, in the style he preferred, exactly where and when he needed it…

Oliver was still musing over this discovery as the attendant took a pointed step to the right, in the direction of the men's jewelry.

"We've just received an exquisite new pocket watch, one of a kind…"

Oliver's frown deepened.

"I'm here for a ring," he explained brusquely, allowing Annie to pull him towards the nearest display case.

"Of course, sir," the salesman fumbled eagerly, trailing after them, "What did you have in mind?"

"An engagement ring," Oliver intoned.

"With a big diamond!" Annie chirped enthusiastically, and Oliver chuckled.

"With a big diamond," he agreed wholeheartedly.

The salesman, a rather nice looking fellow in a suit and tie, stared strangely at the pair of them for a moment, and Oliver interpreted the look grimly. His reputation as a rather cold-hearted businessman probably didn't garner any grandiose ideas of marriage to the common Page Six reader…He noticed that Annie had her palms pressed up against the glass of a tall display case and, rather inexperienced in the area, Oliver leaned over to peer in alongside her.

"Mr. Warbucks! Our top accountholder…a pleasure!" The manager had appeared suddenly alongside them, his expression extremely polite. He opened his arms to welcome them in the direction of a pristine glass cabinet, beneath which a multitude of engagement rings sat nestled upon a velvet display, gleaming attractively.

His praise gave Oliver an idea, and the billionaire looked between the manager and attendant importantly.

"My account…" he instructed, enlightened, "It's managed by my personal secretary, Grace Farrell."

"Ah, Miss Farrell," the manager agreed helpfully, "A very pleasant woman, sir. Excellent taste," he added approvingly.

Oliver's eyes flashed. Annie -whose hand was still in Oliver's own- stared up at the exchange, beginning to fidget.

"Yes, well," he implored eagerly, "Which of this," Oliver waved a hand through the air, indicating the numerous glass displays, "has been of interest to Miss Farrell, whenever she's in? What in particular does she like to look at?"

The attendant and the manager shared a look. Oliver and Annie awaited a reply with twin looks of expectation.

"Well, out with it!" Oliver demanded impatiently.

"Sir," the manager stepped forward. Under the keen eye of Oliver Warbucks, he found it best to be honest with the billionaire, "Miss Farrell, she's...very professional-"

"All business," the attendant agreed with a nod.

"I'm sorry sir, but...well, I've never _seen _her look for herself-"

"Never a glance…" the attendant added thoughtfully.

"She does have a very keen eye when it comes to you, Mr. Warbucks. Always knows exactly what she wants..."

"Excellent taste…" the attendant echoed thoughtfully. Their speculation dwindled into silence, and a strange look overcame the billionaire's face as the two men and Annie peered anxiously up at him.

How he had never realized until now, Oliver couldn't fathom...He had found a true marvel in Grace Farrell.

…The only woman who had never coveted him for his billions.


	3. Together At Last

_To those of you who have asked: I do plan on finishing this story. I knew how this fic would end before I even began the first chapter. I'm just a perfectionist, and it may take me a while. To make up for the delay, here's an extra-long chapter :)_

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><p>Chapter 3: Together At Last<p>

"_And if tomorrow I'm an apple seller, too- I don't need anything but you."_

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><p>By the time Annie and Oliver returned, an assortment of large trucks sat parked in the rear drive, and the little girl quickly became suspect of the increased, almost frenetic energy that seemed to grip the massive household. Preoccupied, the staff rushed about in every direction, while Grace -hoping to prolong the surprise for as long as possible- headed the returning pair off at the entryway and promptly sent Annie off to the tennis court for her lesson. Oliver -determined not to spoil his own surprise- made a hasty retreat for the safety of his office as Grace's back was turned, settling in to handle a few matters of business before the party.<p>

The afternoon passed quickly…Every so often the loud, echoing horn of a delivery truck would drift up to Oliver's office, the dim shouts of workers signaling the arrival of whatever wonders Grace was preparing for that evening. Oliver found himself once again marveling at her proficiency as he scratched out the last of his memos for the day; those which Grace had somehow also managed to prepare while simultaneously planning the executions of a magnificent party.

With evening fast approaching, the DuPont and the Duesenberg were sent off to the Hudson Street Orphanage, and they returned just before dinner, their cabs overflowing with Annie's friends. An ever-stoic Punjab lead the procession into the great hall, and as soon as the little girls caught sight of Grace they converged upon her, babbling excitedly and asking after Annie. As if on cue, the little redhead came dashing down the staircase, exclaiming in delight at the sight of all of her friends from the orphanage crowded around Grace.

"Molly! And Tessie, and Duffy!" Annie gushed, adding to the excited chatter as she rushed towards the group and quickly became surrounded, "Hi Pepper, hi Kate! Hi July!"

Though they had seen each other only just the night before, Annie and the rest of the orphans shrieked with delight, eager to be heard over one another as they traded stories and exclaimed in nearly breathless wonder at the oversized features of the Warbucks' mansion.

"Daddy Warbucks wanted to have a party!" Annie proclaimed gleefully, "And Grace said I could invite all of my friends! And President Roosevelt is coming!"

Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Grace looked on with a gentle smile. She was surprised to find that Molly's little hand had worked its way into her own, and she gave it an affectionate squeeze and nodded towards the staircase, patiently herding the rest of them in the same direction as Annie added:

"You've all got presents, come on!"

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><p>The day had been very busy indeed. Grace had supervised deliveries for most of the afternoon -directing the setup for workers and performers- and about the time the elephant had arrived in her huge, red and yellow trailer was when it became very apparent that the evening's plans were simply too involved to keep the vivacious little redhead out of the loop for much longer.<p>

Annie had been thrilled when, after her tennis lesson, Grace had told her about the party and the invite she had extended to her friends from the orphanage. Astutely aware that most of little girls owned little more than what they wore everyday, Grace -ever capable- had even arranged for an assortment of the newest fashions to be delivered for the orphans in the afternoon. Which was what awaited them -three whole racks worth- as their little group made its eager way up the stairs and arrived at Grace's suite of rooms.

"Ooh!" Squeals of delight echoed off of the high ceiling as Annie's friends discovered what awaited them, and they rushed towards the racks, delighting at the rich, colorful fabric of party dresses, jumpers, ruffled bloomers, and even small silken gloves. Their happy babble created a cheerful sort of melody that filled the large room, and Grace thought happily to herself that the oft lonely estate had never seen such joyful times. Soon the room was filled with the mingled scents of bubble bath and perfume as each little girl took her turn in Grace's big claw-footed tub, splashing and scrubbing before wriggling into their petticoats and drifting over to have her hair gently combed out by Grace. The girls giggled, fussing over their reflections in the vanity as they had seen Miss Hannigan do so many times at the orphanage, and even Pepper, who put on a hard front, allowed Grace to set her curls, closing her eyes as though trying hard to memorize the feeling of the secretary's nimble fingers as they worked through her hair.

When it was Grace's turn to get ready, the girls watched her with a sort of reverent attentiveness as she sat at her vanity in a silken chemise and brushed through the soft waves of her hair. They crowded around so that they could see their faces reflected in the mirror beside Grace's own, admiring her pearls and allowing themselves to imagine -with the sort of wishful innocence that often comes with being a child- that this was their mother, who fussed over their curls and let them sample her lipstick and stared adoringly after Annie…who was surely the luckiest little girl in the world.

* * *

><p>Oliver pulled his pocket watch from his suit vest and sighed. Mabel -his stenographer- paused, her fingers poised in perfect position over the typewriter keys. Her endless patience reminded Oliver of Grace, and he sighed again, tucking his watch back into his jacket pocket.<p>

_Grace…_His dictations were not nearly as fluid without her expertise. His afternoon did not pass nearly as quickly without her velvety laugh to quicken his pulse, nor did he seem to accomplish nearly as much. He was going to have to close a factory in Pittsburgh. Though Grace would ultimately crunch the final numbers, Oliver was sure of it. The loss did not bother him nearly as much, however, as the absence of Grace's presence in his study. He gazed blankly at Mabel, meaning to make note of his next point, but Oliver found that the words wouldn't come.

He found it justifiable that he would miss Grace so much; after all, she made all of his decisions, the most recent and important being the decision to accept his love. _Not just accept it, _Oliver noted, _but return it…_His pulse picked up a little at the thought and Oliver decided right then that since he missed Grace so much- well, he would just go and see her.

"That will be all, Mabel, thank you," Oliver dismissed the older woman with a distracted smile, keen on his new plan. Pausing to remind the stenographer of the party that evening, he barely waited for her to pack her things before slipping out of his study and striding off in the direction of the staircase.

Oliver found Mrs. Pugh in the kitchen. The house was strangely quiet without Annie's gleeful exclamations and the sharp, echoing click of Grace's heels, as she was nearly always by his side. The kindly cook seemed almost unsurprised by his arrival, and a delectable smell wafted from the ovens and filled the room, temporarily distracting him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Warbucks!" Mrs. Pugh stood on her toes to retrieve a pan from the hanging rack, and Oliver stalled, suddenly unsure of his excuse for being there as Grace was clearly nowhere in sight.

"She's upstairs, with the little ones," Mrs. Pugh provided knowingly, her gentle surmise filling the silence. Oliver cleared his throat, though he thought he knew to whom Mrs. Pugh was referring.

"Who?"

"Miss Farrell, of course," Mrs. Pugh's tactful nonchalance was offset by a knowing wink as she reached for a mixing spoon, and Oliver reached up to tug at his collar, feeling suddenly warm. "Dinner's been pushed back for the party, I'm making all of Annie's favorites," Mrs. Pugh added a pinch of salt to the nearest pot and continued, "I was just about to send up some sandwiches-"

"I'll do it," Oliver volunteered quickly, taking a step forward.

"Really, Mr. Warbucks, that's not necessary-"

"Please," Oliver affirmed, reaching for the silver tray all too eagerly, "I insist."

* * *

><p>All throughout the enormous estate, party preparation was evident. The ringing sound of hammers and the gruff shouts of workers echoed across the gardens, while inside, Oliver's staff rushed about, dusting and polishing the floors and banisters until they gleamed. It was Grace who maintained a running tally for the bookkeeper, but Oliver knew his estate employed some 35 full-time and upwards of 60 part-time workers: body guards and groundskeepers, maids and kitchen staff, accountants and stenographers and drivers…All of which -Oliver noted as he made his way across the great hall and towards the staircase- could not quite conceal their looks of surprise and curiosity as he passed, a cheerful bounce in his step.<p>

Oliver's mansion had 52 rooms and 19 full baths. The first floor contained the kitchens and dining rooms -one for everyday use and two more for formal and holiday dinners- a ballroom for entertaining, two music rooms, the parlor, a smoking lounge, multiple sitting rooms, and the pool. The second floor was not quite as open, with less windows and dark carpeting and marble. The second floor was for business: the library, the study, eight lavishly-furnished state rooms, a billiards room, several drawing rooms, and Oliver's office. While most of Oliver's guests roomed on the second floor, the third and uppermost floor was quieter, and -if possible- less presuming. It was divided into the East and West Wings, stretching off down the corridors at either side of the top of the staircase, and housed several of the permanent tenants. Oliver's living quarters made up the entire East Wing, including a smaller, private library, a map room, and a personal breakfast room. To the right of the top of the staircase, on the other side of the mansion from Oliver, was the West Wing, and -at its very end- was Grace.

Her suite of rooms had always been of particular favor to Oliver, and he had known as soon as he'd hired her that only Grace was befitting of its grandeur. Oliver recalled the day he'd offered her the job, four years previous, and how he had found himself rising from his desk -whereas normally he would have directed Punjab or Mrs. Greer to escort her- to show Grace himself to her new quarters. He strode through the house, hands clasped behind his back, and the young woman had followed primly along. Oliver remembered the strange sense of anticipation he had felt when he had pushed open the double doors of the suite, remembered the peculiar feeling of happiness he had experienced as Grace has stepped into her new sitting room, her eyes wide, her expression awed.

She had stood there -hands clasped in front of her in the patient and unassuming way Oliver would eventually come to associate with the lovely woman- marveling at the polished, wooden floor tiles, the elaborate, sculpted crown molding, the tall windows and rich fabric of the curtains, and the stunning crystal chandeliers.

"This will do, I hope?" Oliver had queried, almost teasingly. He had watched as Grace's gaze had traveled across the rose-colored dressing room, the extravagant full bath, the recessed bedroom and the large, open sitting area, and again Oliver had experienced a curious, deeply satisfied feeling that was quite unfamiliar to the loud, business-minded billionaire:

Making Grace happy had made Oliver happy.

* * *

><p>Grace and Annie sat perched on the divan in the open, high-ceilinged sitting room in Grace's suite. The large space echoed with peals of delighted laughter as they watched Molly and Duffy dance about, turning cartwheels in their ruffled crinoline undergarments. Grace smiled in adulation -laughing and clapping her hands as the little girls put on a show- and in the back of her mind she thought of Oliver, and her soft smile grew even wider.<p>

So loud was the noise within the room that neither Grace nor the orphans heard the knock when it first sounded upon the door. A moment passed and the sound came again; before Grace could even reach for her dressing robe Annie had skipped to the large double doors and pulled them open, and there -standing in the corridor on its other side- was Oliver.

"Daddy Warbucks!" Annie seemed unaffected, standing before Oliver in her petticoat, but Grace stood frozen, caught up in a mixture of shock and embarrassment at being discovered by her employer -by _Oliver_- in little more than her silk chemise. The room grew quiet, and Grace cast a look behind her, fraught to discover that the orphans had drifted nearer and were hiding behind her shyly, granting her no cover.

Grace turned back towards the doorway.

"Oliver?" She blushed furiously, and her soft inquiry seemed to stir the billionaire from his stunned reverie.

"Grace…" Oliver said stupidly. He found himself unable to move- such was the sight of the woman in front of him in, _Good Lord_, _nothing but her slip dress_…"I-I'm sorry-" Oliver startled as the sandwich tray was pulled from his hands; he looked down to find that Annie had taken it from him and was gripping the silver handles carefully, staring back and forth between Grace and himself with an anticipant grin upon her face.

"Oliver?" Grace's soft voice broke the silence, and Oliver gave a small start as he realized he had again been staring, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course-" Oliver cleared his throat and tried very hard not to look at the smooth, flushed skin of Grace's neck, simultaneously tempted and fearful of what he might discover if he allowed his gaze to drift southward. He ended up staring very hard at the pattern in the gilded wallpaper.

"I, uh-" Oliver stumbled over his words, searching desperately for an alibi. _Was it really so hard to tell the woman he missed her?_ "Mrs. Pugh wanted to send up some sandwiches…Hold you over…until dinner."

"Thanks!" Annie took a big bite out of the topmost cucumber sandwich, passing out the rest as the little girls seemed to forget their shyness at the mention of a meal which consisted of something other than cold mush, and converged upon the tray eagerly.

"Thank you, Oliver," Grace's eye contained a knowing twinkle, but her smile was as gentle as ever as Oliver nodded and reached for the door handle, desperate for escape. He slipped through the double doors, hastily pulling them closed before collapsing against their sturdy frame and giving his collar another flustered tug.

An hour later, Oliver had changed into his best tuxedo and stood waiting at the foot of the stairs in the grand hall. The house was oddly quiet in the wake of the day's bustling activity, and Oliver adjusted his cummerbund and refastened his jacket button anxiously, sliding a hand beneath his lapel to check the contents of his vest pocket for a third time. Satisfied that the little blue box was indeed safe, Oliver gave a nervous exhale and turned, anticipant, towards the landing at the familiar sound of Grace's heels on the marble tile.

His breath caught in his chest. Grace stood on the topmost step, and Oliver had never seen her look more beautiful. Her hair was pinned back, but softly -so unlike the tight, businesslike way she usually wore it. The delicate twist was dotted with tiny white flowers, and an elegant string of pearls was clasped at her neck. Her rose-colored dress draped across her shoulders, creating an elegant "V" shape against the contours of her chest, before tapering to the perfect fit against her waist. Oliver stared, and Grace gave him a timid smile and dipped her head self-consciously, the color in her cheeks rising delicately.

Annie and the rest of the orphans followed excitedly behind, and as they swept down the stairs, enveloping Grace, Oliver reached out and took her hand, leading her down the last step and guiding her nearer. His gaze never left Grace's own, and her blush deepened as Oliver took her in, seemingly oblivious to the giddy, echoing noises of Annie and her friends as they skipped up and down the stairs, vying for Grace's attention.

"My God, Grace," Oliver breathed solemnly, "You're beautiful."

Grace dipped her head.

"Thank you, Oliver," she smiled shyly and carefully reached up to adjust Oliver's collar, "You look very handsome."

Oliver's expression gave way to a pleased smile, the tips of his ears burning quite warmly.

* * *

><p>"I don't want that woman here, in my house!" Oliver insisted adamantly.<p>

"She still in charge of the orphans, Oliver," Grace intoned carefully, laying her hand against his forearm in a soothing gesture. The guests had begun to arrive, and Grace stood with Oliver at the rear of the entryway while he received each new arrival, shaking hands and accepting congratulations on Annie's rescue and subsequent adoption.

"Besides," Grace smiled amusedly, a knowing twinkle in her eye as Miss Hannigan sauntered across the great hall on the arm of Board of Orphans director Robert Donatelli, "Punjab will keep an eye on her. She seems to have developed quite the special interest in him."

Oliver harrumphed as -sure enough- Miss Hannigan caught sight of Punjab standing vigilant at the foot of the stairs and quickly disengaged herself from Mr. Donatelli's arm, cutting a determined path across the foyer towards the bodyguard that seemed to have so thoroughly enchanted her the night before, and leaving Mr. Donatelli looking quite put out.

The arrival of President Roosevelt and his wife Eleanor amidst the other guests created a welcome distraction from Oliver's grumbling, and soon, the party was in full swing.

"Oliver!" Franklin Roosevelt made a beeline towards the pair, wheeling his chair across the gleaming marble tile before pulling up short, Eleanor alongside him: "Adopting Annie! That's marvelous! I'm not the smartest fellow in the world, but I can sure pick smart colleagues!"

"We aren't colleagues yet, Franklin," Oliver refuted good-naturedly, bending forward to shake the President's hand as Grace and Eleanor exchanged warm greetings, "Though I must admit, there's something to say for your tenacity…"

"Spoken like a true Republican!" President Roosevelt exclaimed with a laugh, "Not to worry, not to worry…" he leaned forward to grasp Grace's hand in both of his own, offering up a buoyant smile, "I'm confident my New Deal will change your mind, Oliver!"

"Spoken like a true Democrat," Oliver parried dryly. They all laughed, and Roosevelt -ever persistent- raised a finger and insisted jovially, "The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today!"

…To which Oliver, try as he might, could not disagree.

The night was again warm, its shadows broken up by the strings of tiny white lights that adorned every line of the stately home. They twinkled against the dark sky and draped from the trees, creating a soft sheen against the multitude of red and blue balloons that lined the veranda.

Grace had outdone herself. She clasped her hands in front of her, ever unassuming and patient, as Oliver conversed with guest after guest, calling Annie over more than once to introduce her to his various and extensive business acquaintances. They had retired to the terrace upon the completion of dinner, and there a wonderland had awaited them:

The promenade and adjoining gardens had been transformed into a certifiable circus, complete with acrobats, jugglers, and dancers. There were clowns and fire-breathers, and performers on unicycles. There was even an elephant. Music from a live, ten-piece band floated across the veranda, and everywhere one looked there were sweets: caramel apples and popcorn, and even -much to the orphans' delight- a mime spinning clouds of fluffy pink cotton candy onto colorful spools.

The orphans ran about in a tight, excited group, emitting shrieks of delight and laughing joyously at every new discovery. The adults sipped champagne and mingled, exclaiming openly at Oliver Warbucks' change in demeanor and speculating quietly on the soft beauty of the woman who stood vigilant at the billionaire's side, and appeared -for all intents and purposes- to be nothing short of a mother figure to the young Annie.

Miss Hannigan -accessorized in her finest purple feather boa for the occasion- shadowed Punjab's every move, though the wise bodyguard appeared curiously smitten by her advances: he had offered her his hand, and led her in a sweeping arc through the party as he made his rounds. Couples danced on the flagstones surrounding the fountain, its reflection casting a pretty, rippling glow upon their faces.

And the night wore on.

When Oliver was finally able to make his way back to Grace -for varying responsibilities had separated them a short while earlier- he found her at the top of the terrace, deep in conversation with Mr. Donatelli. Oliver drew even with the pair, and a tingling sensation shot up Grace's spine as he lay his hand against the small of her back and leaned forward to shake the Director's hand. The nearness of Oliver made her heart pound, and it was with a fuzzy head that Grace thanked Mr. Donatelli and promised to phone his office at the beginning of the week.

"You've outdone yourself, Grace," Oliver insisted reverently, leaning into the shadows beneath the balcony to press a loving kiss against her lips. He reached forward, breaching the darkness as he extended Grace his hand, "…Walk with me?"

The gardens were quiet away from the hum of the party, though the music from the band carried dimly, lending the air a certain ambiance. Grace's hand felt warm and secure within Oliver's grasp, and she allowed him to lead her further away from the bright lights of the large house, deep into the shadows of the garden. The buzz of cicadas seemed to pulse all around them; the magnolia trees rustled and swayed in the night breeze, and cherry blossoms floated through the air, drifting across the path before them. They strolled along, silent, until soon Oliver slowed, leading Grace to a stone bench at the side of the pathway.

The night air was cool and tranquil here, and while Oliver kept hold of Grace's hand with one of his own, he reached forward with the other, his warm palm fitting against her cheek perfectly.

"Have I told you," Oliver's queried softly, "How incredibly beautiful you look tonight?"

Grace dipped her head demurely, a modest blush coloring her cheeks even amongst the shadows as she smiled.

"Thank you, Oliver."

He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, reaching up to tuck an errant curl back into its place.

"You did a wonderful job, with the party."

"Annie seems to be enjoying herself," Grace agreed, smiling softly at the thought. She drifted into silence, caught up in Oliver's gaze. A moment passed, and then -almost without realization- she found herself reaching out to place a hand to the back of Oliver's neck, pulling him closer and leaning forward herself until his lips met her own.

Oliver drew her nearer, returning the kiss with vigor before breaking away to press a half dozen feather-light kisses across her face: her forehead, her cheeks…along the line of her jaw. Grace was breathing heavily when he pulled away; her fingers itched to undo Oliver's bowtie and work his collar free, and she quickly balled her hands into tight fists, stifling the urge.

A lone cricket began to sing, breaking their momentary silence. Grace gazed at Oliver with wide eyes, and Oliver stared back -thoroughly entranced by Grace's beauty- as the rise and fall of his chest slowly settled.

"There's…something I want to ask of you," Oliver intoned softly, patted both of his jacket pockets nervously before remembering that he had hidden the little blue Tiffany's box in the pocket of his vest. He reached into his jacket before pausing, unsure of how to proceed. "I've been quite the fool…these past four years, not to have noticed you."

Grace deflated softly, looking hurt, and Oliver reached forward, quick to amend his words.

"What I mean-" he cupped her chin in his palm, lifting it gently so that she couldn't look away, "Is that I've been a fool to have noticed you every single day…" he continued softly, "And never told you -never admitted to myself- how incredibly important you are -how important you've _become- _to me."

Oliver reached again for the little blue box inside his vest, confident this time, and pulled it out, presenting it carefully to Grace.

"For you," he explained unnecessarily. Grace stared up at him, eyes wide and disbelieving, and Oliver gave her an encouraging smile, his expression endearingly anticipant. Grace exhaled nervously, twisting her hands upon her lap before reaching out to take the proffered box. Casting Oliver yet another unsure glance, she lowered her gaze and carefully lifted its lid.

She gasped, a small hand shooting up to cover her mouth incredulously. The most beautiful ring Grace had ever seen was nestled inside, its brilliance evident even in the dim shadows of the night. Oliver smiled, satisfied, and mentally reminded himself that he must thank Annie again, for together they had picked a splendid ring: The center diamond was large and square, its color a magnificent indigo blue. Every facet of its surface gleamed in the soft moonlight, and its sparkling color was a near-match for Grace's soft, blue-grey eyes, a detail that had not gone unnoticed by Oliver. Set in white-gold, no less than 36 white diamonds lined the center stone and glittered across the entire width of the band. It truly was a magnificent ring, and as Grace began to cry Oliver lifted it carefully from the box and gently took her hand into his own.

"Grace Elizabeth Farrell," Oliver lovingly slipped the ring onto her finger, "Will you marry me?"

* * *

><p><em>Like I said, sorry this took so long. I do plan on continuing…however, I've had the outline for this story done for months, and as you can see I've only managed to put out 3 chapters, so I'm not sure how well that speaks for my efficiency! I've got quite a few alerts and favorites on this story, so if you're reading this, please let me know what you think?<em>

_Fun fact: Wilson Hall at Monmouth College in New Jersey (where the movie scenes for Daddy Warbucks' mansion were shot) actually has 130 rooms! I thought that was a little much (even for Oliver!) so I scaled it back to a paltry 52 rooms ;)_

_Also, if you're a visual person (like me) you can see the link for Grace's engagement ring on my profile. I needed a ring suitable to Oliver's taste and Grace's beauty, and the standard white gold/white diamond were a dime a dozen and began to feel very uninspired…hence the blue diamond. _


	4. Grace, Aptly Named

Chapter 4: Grace, Aptly Named

"_Miss Hannigan says a man don't look at your brains!" _

* * *

><p><strong><span>THE NEW YORK TIMES<span>**

JULY 30, 1933

* * *

><p>BUSINESS FEATURES<p>

**_WALLSTREET TYCOON OLIVER WARBUCKS' FINDS WIFE IN SECRETARY,_**

**_ANNOUNCES ENGAGEMENT; USES ADOPTION AND MARRIAGE TO BOOST_**

_**POLITICAL ASPIRATIONS **_

_-By The Associated Press-_

_The ink has not yet dried on the adoption certificate of Ann Marie Mudge, 10, whose adoption by billionaire business mogul Oliver Warbucks became official earlier this month, though it seems Warbucks' is taking no chances: adding yet another contingency to an increasingly elaborate business scheme. The first round of invitations to Warbucks' late summer wedding to his private secretary, Miss Grace Farrell, were mailed this week, in lieu -it would appear- of any official statement. The news comes as a shock to the manufacturing community, which -just last month- was reeling with political fallout when it was announced that Warbucks' would close two factories in favor of streamlining his production lines, thereby cutting costs and putting upwards of three hundred employees out of work. In a well-plotted effort to mend his public image, it was decided that Warbucks' would host an orphan in his home for a week, boosting public opinion and serving to represent the billionaire as family-oriented in the backlash of his latest business maneuver. When a nation-wide search for the orphan's parents -conducted by Warbucks' estate- yielded no results, a statement issued through the New York Board of Orphans soon announced the adoption of the young orphan by the magnate himself. A formal adoption party was held over the Independence Day weekend, in which it was rumored President Franklin Roosevelt and First Lady Eleanor were in attendance, further increasing speculation that Warbucks' will soon sign on as a financial backer to President Roosevelt's New Deal, a political stance that would upend the majority of the opposing Republican party. It would appear that Warbucks' has made a major political power-move via his adoption of orphan Annie and unprecedented engagement to Grace Farrell; certainly both developments are already serving to portray the billionaire as more identifiable, though perhaps no less scandalous…Private secretary Grace Farrell has maintained a permanent residence at Warbucks' estate for several years, lending speculation to the nature of the relationship between employee and employer over Miss Farrell's course of employment. Thirty-two year old Farrell, an alumni of Seven Sister's Barnard College with a degree in Liberal Arts, was raised in Long Island…(continued pg 8)_

Oliver's coffee cup rattled against its saucer as he threw the newspaper onto the table in disgust, startling Grace as she looked on apprehensively. Annie -oblivious- looked up from her oatmeal, watching the exchange between her Daddy Warbucks and Grace with wide eyes as Oliver fumed.

"Damn press!" Oliver spat furiously, "Damn image! I'll buy out that paper and fire them all!"

A gentle breeze rustled the branches of the large oak tree beside the terrace and its shadow cast a pretty, swaying pattern upon the linen tablecloth that covered the outdoor table where they sat. Grace's engagement ring sparkled in the early morning sunlight and she bowed her head ashamedly, feeling deeply guilty for the trouble this had caused.

Oliver reached again for the paper, shaking it out before snapping it open to the article.

"Oliver," Grace cautioned, laying a hand to his arm, "Don't…"

"This is ridiculous!" Oliver ranted scornfully, ignoring her, "I'll sue!"

Grace cast a wary glance at Annie, who seemed to have forgotten all about her oatmeal and was concentrating intently on the goings-on before her.

"Why don't we finish breakfast," Grace suggested gently, reaching pointedly across the table to spoon another serving of oatmeal into Annie's bowl. The little redhead ignored her and continued staring openly at Oliver, who threw his linen napkin onto his plate and abruptly pushed himself away from the table.

"Breakfast is over," Oliver seethed, striding past the table towards the open doors of the house. Grace rose from her chair and made to follow, but Oliver refused to be consoled, "Not now, Grace!" he barked, brushing her away. Shocked, Grace sunk back into her chair, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. She lifted the vile newspaper with a shaking hand before sighing and letting it flop back to the table. The terrace was silent in Oliver's wake, and Grace and Annie stared at one with another with matching expressions, listening distantly to the echoing sound of his shouts as he stalked off through the house, bellowing orders at the staff.

Slowly, the birdsong returned, the bees drifted back to the flowers, and Annie went back to her oatmeal. Grace tried to do the same, though the lump in her throat made finishing her cold breakfast nearly impossible.

"Grace?" Annie inquired nonchalantly after a few minutes passing, lowering her spoon, "…Are you still gonna marry Daddy Warbucks?"

The lump in her throat became even more painful and Grace swallowed, forcing herself to smile.

"Yes. Of course, dear."

…She hoped.

* * *

><p>The last several weeks had passed by in a blur; every day was spent looking after Annie and planning for the wedding, on top of Oliver's ever-hectic business schedule. Though Oliver was resistant at first -he was adamant that Grace need never work again- Grace had insisted that she intended to remain his secretary even after they were married. It had taken some convincing, but finally Oliver had admitted that there really was no other that could predict his next move the way Grace could. They were a team, and worked as one.<p>

They had set the date for the end of summer, looking to be married as soon as possible. It was a special kind of torture -having finally confessed their love for one another and working in such close proximity every day- and not acting upon it. But Oliver was a gentleman, and intended to treat Grace as such. Before they knew it, the wedding invitations had been mailed, and July was nearly over.

Now, after breakfast, Grace wandered through the house, prolonging the inevitable. Oliver wanted Annie to have both a mother and a father, Grace knew, and it seemed no one was more excited about the wedding than the little redhead. But Annie's question over breakfast had done nothing to ease Grace's conscience…Doubt seeded her thoughts as Grace replayed Oliver's reaction to the article in the _Times_.

Did Oliver still want to marry her? Could it be that things were moving too fast?

…_Was Oliver ashamed to marry her, his secretary? _

After a walk in the gardens with Annie following breakfast, Grace had accompanied the little girl to the tennis court for her lesson before turning around and -with deliberate leisure- making her way back to the great hall.

The staff was sullen following their tongue-lashing from Oliver; the mood in the great household was dishearteningly reminiscent of its pre-Annie days. Drake wished Grace a halfhearted good morning as she passed, while the maids smiled only feebly or kept their eyes averted altogether, feigning concentration on their tasks. With a growing sense of despair, Grace made her way down the long hallway towards Oliver's study, drawing even with the heavy double doors before pausing to take a steadying breath. Feeling out of place, she gripped both handles and pushed against the wood, knocking on its edge to announce her presence.

"Oliver?" Grace's soft voice was unsure, and she hesitated near the doorway as Oliver looked up from his paperwork distractedly. Grace hadn't realized, but she'd been holding her breath, and she let it out on a relieved sigh as Oliver's gaze softened immediately and he waved her in.

An unsettling silence settled over them as Grace turned to close the doors. She took a few steps further into the room and then paused, wavering unsurely; Oliver lay his pen aside and cleared his throat softly.

"Where's Annie?"

"Having her tennis lesson."

Oliver nodded, and the silence between them seemed to grow. Grace wrung her hands nervously, frozen in the stretch of space between Oliver's desk and the door. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she opened her mouth:

"You've changed your mind, haven't you?" she burst impulsively, twisting her hands even more rapidly.

Oliver's expression was one of shock, and he drew back in genuine surprise.

"Changed my mind?" he wondered aloud, and Grace threw her hands in the air in distress.

"About the wedding! About- about marrying your _secretary_!" she continued, her expression turning to one of anguished sorrow, "You've realized- you've realized you don't want to marry me, after all!"

Realization dawned on Oliver and he straightened and stood, closing the distance between himself and Grace in three long strides, enveloping her in his arms as she began to cry.

"Grace," Oliver's deep voice was laced with regret as he realized just how badly losing his temper over breakfast had wounded her. He brushed the hair from her face, gently nudging a finger beneath her chin and raising it so that she was forced to look at him. "I'm sorry," he intoned softly, "For losing my temper…For snapping at you."

Grace took a delicate, shuddering breath and looked up at him from beneath damp eyelashes.

"But…?" she wondered timidly, and Oliver frowned.

"But what, my dear?"

"You've changed your mind," Grace provided miserably.

"Good Lord, Grace, no!" Oliver chuckled incredulously- he couldn't help it, and this made Grace both laugh and cry harder as she marveled at the foolishness of it all.

"You don't think we're…rushing into things?"

"Quite the opposite!" Oliver insisted brazenly, "The wait is killing me!"

Blushing furiously, Grace giggled and buried her face into Oliver's shoulder endearingly. After a moment, she pulled away, her expression serious.

"And the wedding?" she worried, "What about the press?"

"To hell with the blasted press," Oliver insisted adamantly, drawing her nearer and cupping her face in his hands, "I love you, Grace. You, and Annie…" Oliver drew her nearer still, and kissed her passionately, "...That's all that matters."

* * *

><p>Grace sat across from Annie at the dining room table and pushed her dinner about her plate halfheartedly. It was the evening before the wedding, and Oliver had been in Pittsburgh for two days, working overtime in preparation for the work he would miss while they were away on their honeymoon. Though she understood the need for such arrangements, Grace missed Oliver terribly, and his absence combined with the late August heat and pre-wedding nerves made her both tired and cranky.<p>

Tomorrow, she would be a married woman. Grace rose to serve Annie the last piece from the apple pie that Mrs. Pugh had made special for the night before Oliver had left, and her hands shook slightly at her next thought:

Tomorrow, she would share a bed with a man for the first time.

Of course, there had been suitors. There had even been an engagement, early in her college years. Grace blushed, embarrassed at her naïveté. Sure, there had been stories from her college friends…but hearing them recount their tales of dark nights and furtive touches had always left Grace warm in the face and prattling on about how she felt it most prudent to wait for marriage.

She was thirty-two years old, and completed inexperienced in the matter.

Grace contemplated this as Annie finished her dessert, smiling into her tea as she realized that the little redhead had grown rather quiet: her head bobbed tiredly as she struggled to stay awake and finish her pie. With a feeling of guilt, Grace stubbornly pushed her worries of pleasing Oliver from her mind and stood to clear the last of the dishes. It was indeed quite late -their day had been filled with last-minute wedding preparation- and when Grace suggested bed, Annie nodded tiredly, and didn't object.

Slowly, they made their way up the stairs, bidding Punjab goodnight and turning off the lights as they moved throughout the house. In the East Wing, Grace drew Annie's bathwater and tided her playthings as the little girl bathed. Feeling melancholy, she helped Annie into her nightgown and then made a suggestion:

"How would you like to sleep with me tonight?"

They made their way down the hallway to Grace's suite, and Grace unpinned her hair and changed into her own nightgown as Annie scrambled up into the large, four-poster bed and wriggled beneath the cool satin sheets. A moment later Grace joined her, followed by Sandy, who turned once and lay on the bed at their feet.

A soft breeze rustled the branches of the trees outside the window, carrying the lonely sound of crickets through the open balcony doors.

"Grace?" Annie's small voice permeated the darkness, and Sandy's ear pricked at the sound.

"Yes?"

"Are you excited for tomorrow?"

Grace felt her face grown warm, nervous for the next night. She nodded into the darkness.

"Very much so," she answered truthfully.

The room grew quiet again, and Grace relaxed into her pillow, trying to calm herself enough for sleep.

"Grace?" Annie's voice came again a moment later, and Grace couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, Annie?"

"Does this mean…I can call you Mom, now?"

Grace's heart seemed to swell within her chest and she swallowed tightly, feeling suddenly and absurdly hopeful.

"Would you like that, Annie?"

"Yes."

Grace felt her eyes grow bright and she smiled into the darkness, touched.

"Then I'd like that very much."

The room grew quiet once more, as the wonderful notion of what had been decided passed between them. With a content sigh, Annie slipped her hand into Grace's own and settled into her pillow. Grace held the little girl's hand tight, and, tucked safely beneath the covers, the little family -minus one- drifted off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow would be perfect.


	5. Interlude

_Thank you to all who have sent messages or reviewed! Consider this chapter a brief interlude…it's wedding-themed ;)_

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: Interlude<p>

"_Oh, I could just KISS you!" _

* * *

><p>Grace arose early on the day of her wedding to the most wonderful sight: on her dressing table sat a magnificent bouquet of beautiful long stemmed white roses, and beside it, a small box, its color a signature Tiffany's blue. Sometime in the night, Annie had curled herself into Grace's side, and there she remained, fast asleep. Grace's heart fluttered endearingly as she recalled what had passed between them the night before, and she pressed a careful kiss to the top of Annie's head before rising gently so as not to wake her and crossing the room to her dresser.<p>

She opened the card first; lowering herself onto her dressing room chair and bending to inhale the sweet perfume of the nearest blossom. Casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure that Annie still slept soundly, she slid the pretty card from its envelope and gently undid its clasp:

_Grace, _

_I consider myself the luckiest man alive, to be marrying you today. I look forward to spending the rest of my days by your side. _

_ All my love, _

_ Oliver _

Grace laid a hand over her heart with a soft smile and carefully propped the card against her mirror. Slowly, she lifted the lid from the Tiffany's box, and found another note written in Oliver's familiar scrawl.

_I saw these and thought of you. _

Beneath Oliver's note, nestled in their casing, lay a gorgeous pair of pearl earrings, perfectly round and polished to a soft sheen. Grace gently undid their clasps and held them up to her ears, touched by Oliver's generosity. Laying them carefully aside, she picked up her watch from where it lay on the dressing table beside her and looked at the time; it was early, and most of the household would only just be waking. With a wide smile, Grace reached impulsively for her robe and, checking to make sure that Annie still rested soundly, slipped quietly from the bedroom, intent on welcoming Oliver home.

The house was quiet as Grace made her way through its halls, and the marble of the staircase was cold on her bare feet as she flitted down the stairs. She blushed at her candor, for she had never been outside of her room in her nightgown before…and yet the anticipation of seeing Oliver on their wedding day drove her forward still. Descending the final step into the great hall, Grace hurried across its expanse and into the dining room, and there Oliver sat, taking his morning coffee with the newspaper.

"Oliver…" A smile bloomed across her face as the man she loved looked up at the sound of his name and lay his paper aside. He seemed surprised at her sudden presence before him, but his expression was amused as he stood.

"Good morning, Grace," Oliver smiled, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and Grace laughed out loud and threw herself into his embrace, standing on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Thank you Oliver. They're beautiful."

"Not so beautiful as you, my dear," Oliver insisted sincerely, pressing an affectionate kiss to her lips. Feeling suddenly uninhibited, Grace returned the gesture, parting her mouth with a content sigh and leaning into his touch. Oliver, though very much enthused, hesitated for the briefest of seconds…but he had not seen this woman for two long days and now here she was in front of him -on the day of their wedding- and it was with that thought that Oliver gave way to abandon. He allowed his hands to caress the line of her body, sliding them down until they rested against her hips as he relished in her kiss. He savored the feeling of her body so close to his- and yet still Grace pressed forward, her fingers tracing a delicate path against the back of his neck and along the sturdy line of his shoulders. Grace found herself becoming quickly caught up in the moment; the tie of her robe had grown loose, and the gentle swell of her breasts beneath her nightgown caught the cool air as her breathing grew heavy and mingled with Oliver's own, each of their hearts hammering within their chests.

Grace pulled away as suddenly as she had surged forward, snapping into awareness nearly as quickly as their innocent kiss had degenerated into something quite…overindulgent. She blushed deeply and pulled her robe around her shoulders, as Oliver, dazed, cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry…" Grace dipped her head, embarrassed by her brazenness. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she stared up at Oliver in the ringing silence…but he merely chuckled and stepped forward, reaching out to cup his palm against the line of her jaw and reclaim her mouth with his own, kissing Grace until her knees grew weak.

It was with great individual restraint that they finally broke apart, but as they did, something excited and unspoken passed between them:

It was their wedding day.

Today, they would become husband and wife.

* * *

><p>Grace stood on a chair in the center of her dressing room as Cecil and Mrs. Greer smoothed out the fabric of her wedding gown, fussing over folds of cream silk as they prepared to slip it over her head. She shivered and clutched her arms more tightly across her chest as across the room Annie clamored off of the divan, trying unsuccessfully to tame the stiff ruffles of her own dress.<p>

"Annie," Grace admonished, a laugh as smooth as velvet trickling amusedly from her throat, "Don't fuss."

Annie dipped her head guiltily. She smoothed her skirt and her bashful expression morphed into one of uncertainty as she drew nearer to the chair upon which Grace stood and gazed quizzically up at her.

"Mom?" Grace's heart thrilled at the endearment as Annie continued unsurely, "…Do I have grandparents?" Her voice rose hopefully: "Am I going to meet them today?"

Grace faltered and cast an uncertain look at the two women beside her as the little girl stared up at her expectantly. Though the absence of her parents on her wedding day had not gone overlooked by Grace, she was blindsided by Annie's unprecedented question and unsure of how to answer. Grace cleared her throat and stepped down from the chair, accepting her robe from the matronly Mrs. Greer with a solemn smile and reaching out to take Annie's hands in her own.

"Annie…" Grace straightened the little girl's sash, acutely aware of the pitying glance shared between the two maids as she struggled to find the best way to answer the question. The little redhead seemed to interpret the silence and she cocked her head with a tiny frown, watching Grace's expression.

"…Don't you have any parents?" she asked in a small voice, and Grace smiled sadly and shook her head.

"My parents died a long time ago, Annie."

"But…how?" the little girl struggled to comprehend Grace's answer, "Does that mean that you're an orphan, too?"

"My mother died when I was a little girl, younger even than you," Grace explained, laying a hand to Annie's cheek. She swallowed painfully, determined to keep her voice light, "But my father didn't die until I was all grown up," Grace chose to leave out the painful recollection of her father as he had slowly degenerated into alcoholism, and finished gently: "So I wasn't an orphan. And neither are you," she added buoyantly, forcing a smile, "Not anymore."

The two gazed at one another in the ringing silence, and Grace quickly thumbed away the empathic tear that had slipped its way down Annie's cheek, pulling her into an embrace that was as much for her own benefit as it was for Annie's.

"Now, enough about that," she straightened, holding Annie out at arms length and smiling kindly, "You look much too pretty today to be sad. Let's finish your curls."

* * *

><p>The hem of Grace's wedding gown skimmed the pathway as she ducked low, following Oliver as they slipped away from the lilting music of the reception and into the dark recesses of the garden. He led her by the hand, pulling her close and pressing kisses to her at every opportunity, every word weighted with promise as he murmured that he loved her. Grace giggled -told him to prove it- and so he kissed her again, pulling her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck.<p>

Looking back, Oliver would remember many things about this day: how happy he had been, how finally complete Grace had made him feel. He would remember much of it in pieces, as the day had passed as many wedding days do: disjointed and full of periods of time during which the minutes passed like hours, and still others in which time seemed to slip away from him under the most wonderful of circumstances. Oliver would come to find that he could no longer recall the nerves that had wracked him as he paced in the great hall before the start of the ceremony…though the joy he had felt as he had slipped the wedding band upon Grace's finger was one that he would never forget.

The ceremony had been beautiful, just as Grace had been. She was every bit the blushing bride in a gown of French silk, with a flowing, lace bodice that draped over her shoulders and fitted at the waist. She wore her hair down, the way Annie liked it, its soft waves styled into curls that perfectly framed her face, and beneath which her new pearl earrings gleamed with a lustrous opulence. She was the most beautiful thing that Oliver had ever seen.

The stars -it seemed- had multiplied during the time Grace and Oliver had spent in the gardens, and they glittered high in the sky above them as they made their way hand in hand back up the path the way they'd come. Fireflies drifted in lazy paths about their heads, alighting upon the shrubbery and seeming to wink cheerfully at them as they passed, and steadily, the music from the party grew nearer as they made their way back towards the house, their pace leisurely. Oliver raised their clasped hands to press a kiss to the set of rings on Grace's finger, and far too soon they were back at the edge of the terrace.

Everything appeared differently now, though all was as they'd left it. Where once there had been only a madly-determined gate, a cheerful bounce now permeated Oliver's step. Grace's face shown with a beautiful, glowing happiness. And on top of it all, they had Annie.

"The fireworks are about to start," Oliver mumbled, pressing another kiss to her hand and leading her out of the shadows and into the bright glow shining through the windows from inside the house. Across the terrace, Annie and the rest of the orphans chased after Sandy, and the little redhead paused long enough to grin and cast them a wave. Grace and Oliver returned the gesture with contented smiles.

The first of the fireworks burst into the night and scattered; showering a multitude of blue and white stars across the sky above them. Their guests oohed and ahhed, clapping their hands as they thrilled at each new explosion of light. Oliver kept Grace's small hand clasped in his own, and she rested her other against his arm as they stood at the top of the terrace and gazed out over the festivities. Soon the repeated clink of silver on china signaled the call for toasts; the guests raised their glasses and the cake was cut and before either of them had a spare moment to notice it was nearing midnight and the celebration was drawing to a close.

Nearly an hour passed before Grace and Oliver accepted the last congratulation from their departing guests; the children had long since been sent to bed and though Grace knew she should be tired, a nervous anticipation for what was to come left her feeling wide awake. They dawdled for a rather long time in the great hall, thanking the staff and pretending to direct the cleanup as each attempted to muster the courage to suggest bed. Finally, it was decided for them, as Mrs. Pugh shooed them towards the stairs with a knowing wink, declaring that -despite their sudden desire to help- she could oversee the cleanup process just fine without them.

Without quite meeting her eye, Oliver held out his hand, and Grace took it shyly, allowing him to lead the way up the stairs. The house grew quiet as they ascended, until soon only the mingled sounds of their breathing disrupted the silence. A combination of nerves and habit had Grace turning down the West Wing towards her rooms as they reached the third floor, until she realized that Oliver was heading the other way. He chuckled endearingly at her mistake, and her exhale turned to nervous laughter as she allowed him to right their way.

Grace hesitated as they neared the hall leading to Annie's room, a natural instinct to check on the little girl pulling her subconsciously off course, but when she turned to suggest the notion she noticed for the first time a smoldering heat in Oliver's dark eyes, one that curiously muddled her thoughts and drew her nearer to him. He kissed her then, gently, and almost without her realization Grace found her arms wound tightly around his neck as she opened her mouth to his, inviting him closer. Oliver's hands slid over her body and she gasped, leaning into his touch. He gripped her shoulders, kissing her until her head swam, and then in one fluid moment he lifted her in his arms.

His touch was warm on her skin, and Grace's heart hammered within her chest, a deep blush suffusing her face with color as they drew near the double doors to Oliver's suite. She gazed up at him then, cupping his face in her hands and leaning forward to kiss him softly on the lips. And it was with that affirmation that Oliver stepped across the threshold, carrying Grace into the dark shadows of his rooms.

In the quiet of the large house, the doors clicked softly closed behind him.

* * *

><p><em>So I'm not very happy with this chapter…Also, the link to Grace's wedding dress is on my profile. <em>


	6. Leapin' Lizards!

Chapter 6: "Leapin' Lizards!"

"_Things have worked out, much better than planned; it makes you smile, when fate takes a hand…"_

* * *

><p>Oliver, Grace, and Annie sat together in the expansive rear cab of the Duesenberg, the bright lights of New York City reflecting against its dark windows as The Asp drove though the streets of the city that never slept, even at this late hour. As if she knew exhaustion would set in as soon as she allowed it, Annie chattered excitedly at Grace…and Oliver found his concentration wavering. He frowned unsurely at his wife, who -though she dutifully held Annie's hand- seemed not to hear a word the young girl was saying, before facing forward again, mystified.<p>

They were dressed in their finest, having just hosted a Christmas fundraiser that Grace had organized on behalf of the little girls at the Hudson Street Orphanage. In addition to keeping on as his secretary, Grace had been working with Mr. Donatelli and the New York Board of Orphans since their return from their honeymoon in Monte Carlo in early September. She had -it turned out- been calculating the idea since Annie's own adoption, and had convinced Oliver that with his name on the ticket, they would definitely get the press they needed to find all of the little girls at the orphanage homes.

The night had been a splendid success: though all of Annie's friends had been formally adopted in the weeks passed -Pepper had come last, just two days earlier- there were still many that needed homes…and the benefit had served to ensure just that.

Oliver watched as Grace gave a small sigh and rested her head against the window, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments as Annie continued to babble. She had been subdued throughout dinner and most of the event, and though she doted on Annie as she always did -though she kept track of Oliver's note cards and stayed by his side as they exchanged pleasantries with every guest in attendance- Oliver found the difference unsettling.

Though Annie was terribly oblivious to Grace's inattentiveness, she had gradually quieted, so that by the time The Asp was pulling into the drive the car had been silent for several minutes. Oliver struggled to catch Grace's eye as she straightened and allowed The Asp to help her from the car. Unsuccessful, he stepped out of the Duesenberg behind Annie, placing a hand to the small of Grace's back before leading them up the steps and into the warmth of the great hall. The little group was silent as they crossed the entryway, their footsteps echoing against the marble tile.

"Grace…"

Grace turned distractedly as Oliver spoke her name and he frowned, his brow furrowing uncertainly- something about the variance in her had Oliver on edge. He began to reach for her before pulling up short, his arm falling limply to his side: Annie was leaning tiredly into Grace, and she cast a pointed glance from Oliver to the little girl before placing a guiding hand to her shoulder and moving towards the staircase.

"I'll draw her bath…" Grace took motherhood very seriously, and though her duties to Annie took precedence over all else -her day to day obligations usually, and her own needs always- there was a tired edge to her soft voice that was quite unfamiliar to Oliver.

"Don't forget to say goodnight, Daddy Warbucks," Annie reminded with a yawn.

Oliver smiled weakly and nodded.

"I'll be up shortly," he promised.

* * *

><p>Oliver retired to his study and poured himself a drink, tipping the mouth of his favorite brandy against the lip of his glass, indulgently filling the crystal quite a bit further than was either usual or necessary. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a generous drink of the dark liquid and glowered into the empty fireplace, deep in thought.<p>

Fall had passed smoothly…Grace and Oliver had spent a week on Oliver's yacht in Monte Carlo for their honeymoon, only returning two days early when they began to miss Annie a little too much. After the honeymoon had come Annie's birthday in October. They were renovating the orphanage; Grace had been spending much of her time there while she searched for a suitable replacement for Mrs. Hannigan- though even that would soon be settled. They had been busy- very busy. The orphanage benefit had been their last big holiday obligation- and for the first time since becoming husband and wife, their lives had begun to take on a sense of normalcy once again.

Oliver took another sip of brandy, moving behind his desk and absentmindedly shuffling the impressive array of notebooks and ticket tape that blanketed its surface. He struggled to remember when he had first noticed the change in Grace- _Was it at dinner, or before? _Come to think of it- she had been distracted at breakfast that morning: reserved…_Or perhaps, _Oliver wondered, swallowing the thought with a generous gulp of brandy, _Perhaps she had been avoiding him…_

Grace tucked Annie into bed with loving care, smoothing an unruly red curl away from her daughter's face before reaching over to scratch Sandy behind the ears. She cast a glance towards the door to Annie's bedroom before turning back to the little girl with an unconvincing smile.

"He's not coming, is he?" Annie prompted despairingly. It never failed to catch Grace by surprise, the way that Annie -usually so bright and energetic- could interpret the smallest gesture as rejection. She lay a hand to the little girl's cheek, smiling gently.

"I'm sure he didn't forget," she promised.

Annie yawned, fighting sleep.

"Will you lay with me?" she pleaded softly, fixing her wide gaze upon Grace with a practiced skill.

Grace hesitated. Her stomach churned in protest…but she found it impossible to resist Annie's beseeching gaze.

"Of course," Grace nodded, pressing a kiss to Annie's head and allowing the little girl to snuggle up to her.

Annie sighed.

"Goodnight, Mom..."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

* * *

><p>When she was sure that Annie slept soundly, Grace crept quietly from the room and set off down the corridor in search of Oliver. She had woken -for the second day in a row- feeling ill. Her stomach clenched weakly and there was a dull ache behind her temples, and the day had kept her on her feet from beginning to end. Their Christmas benefit -the accumulation of months of diligent planning and effort on her part- had seemed to never end…so that by the time they were climbing into the car Grace could hardly even pretend to be keeping up with Annie's babble. Her mind had been racing all day, and all she wanted was to finally go to bed, secure in Oliver's arms.<p>

By the time Grace arrived at his study, Oliver had started a fire in the grate and was sipping his way through his third drink. He turned as his wife slipped through the double doors, the ice clinking against his glass as he set it aside and allowed his gaze to slip back to the crackling orange flames. He didn't speak, didn't greet Grace, nor provide reason for his absence at Annie's bedside.

"Oliver?" Grace's voice was hesitant, unsure. Oliver could sense the exhaustion beneath her question, and his resolve wavered slightly. He set his mouth in a firm line.

"Oliver?" Grace said again, when he didn't answer. She moved further into the room. "Is everything alright?"

Oliver parted his lips, reaching again for his drink.

"You tell me."

His tone was humorless, almost angry, and Grace frowned.

"You didn't say goodnight…" Beneath her concerned tone lay an edge of irritation, and Oliver felt his expression harden as Grace continued, "She waited for you."

"My apologies…"

His voice was hard and mirthless, and Grace's hands flew to her hips as she stomped her foot in frustration.

"Oliver Warbucks, why are you acting this way?"

Oliver chuckled coldly, standing and moving to the other side of his desk to refill his glass.

"I should be asking you the same thing," he accused.

Grace watched as Oliver poured himself another drink, raising the glass to his lips and draining its contents in one indignant gulp.

"Whatever are you talking about?" she demanded. "Oliver, look at me- put that down, you've had enough-"

"Haven't you?" Oliver challenged, clenching his fist upon his desk, "Or aren't you through with me yet?"

Grace clutched at the back of her usual chair, incredulous.

"Excuse me?" she challenged angrily, even as she felt her vision blur with unshed tears, "What have I done? You're acting ridiculous!"

"Me?" Oliver thundered, "You're been avoiding me, Grace- you barely spoke two words all night! Are you so unhappy?"

"Oliver-"

"You got what you wanted, is that it? Annie adores you, so now you don't need me?"

Grace pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling suddenly ill, and Oliver deflated brokenly, misinterpreting her silence.

"You don't deny it?" he accused mistakenly, voice somber. "What- where are you going?" he demanded.

"I don't feel well-" Grace brushed past him, and Oliver set his drink down and moved to follow, worried.

"Grace-"

Oliver followed, looking on with concern as his perfect Grace only barely made it to the washroom down the hall before becoming sick. Feeling instantly sober, Oliver reached forward unsurely, the accusations he had spat at her only moments before ringing in his ears.

"Grace," Oliver's voice was filled with remorse, "I-I'm so sorry..."

Grace took Oliver's hand and straightened weakly, feeling hurt and angry and -above all else- extremely tired.

"Oliver…"

"I didn't mean it," Oliver cut across, "Please, forgive me-"

"How could you say such things?" Grace demanded. She knew that Oliver hadn't meant what he'd said- knew that he'd been drinking, and knew also that her husband's insecurities were a direct response to the way that she herself had behaved for much of the day. Still, his words had cut her deeply, and her eyes welled with angry tears, "Do you really think so little of me?"

"I-of course not," Oliver reached forward, cupping her cheek in his palm, "I'm a fool, Grace. I just thought…Perhaps the novelty of it all had worn off, and you'd realized that, well, that I'm not what you wanted, after all…"

"That's absolutely silly, Oliver!" Grace snapped, her exhaustion giving way to irritation, "That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard!"

Oliver seemed taken aback at her outburst, and he reached forward tentatively.

"Grace-"

"And besides," Grace burst indignantly, "It's nothing to do with you!"

"I-" Oliver hesitated, turning towards Grace with a frown, "What do you mean?"

"Oliver," Grace began slowly, "There's something I need to tell you…" She hesitated unsurely- for in truth, she _had_ been distracted for much of the day. More specifically: she had been anxious and preoccupied from the moment her forthcoming confession had occurred to her. Ever since she had put two-and-two together. The nausea, the fatigue…the precise timing of it all. "Oliver…" Grace's gaze was downcast, and she forced herself to raise her gaze, meeting Oliver's concerned expression from beneath dark eyelashes:

"...I think I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p><em>My apologies for the delay! I misplaced my flash drive and didn't look kindly upon rewriting this entire chapter! Thank you, thank you to everyone that takes the time to read my story and review, it seriously brightens my day! I hope you will like the direction I am taking this story…I've started a companion piece to this one…It's basically a series of one-shots that parallel my storyline by exploring certain plot points in a little more detail. Don't worry, this fic still gets priority :) Be on the lookout for the first installment, coming soon! <em>


	7. Happy News

_Sorry (again!) for the delay…The craziness of exams and the holiday are FINALLY over, so I hope to get back to updating more regularly over the break! Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review/alert/favorite my story! _

* * *

><p>Chapter 7: Happy News<p>

"_Santa Claus we never see…Santa Claus. what's that? Who's he?"_

* * *

><p>"Oliver?" A curious expression had settled over Oliver's features, and Grace surveyed him with trepidation, "I wanted to wait," she continued, "Until I knew for sure…But given the circumstances…"<p>

Her words faded into silence. Grace took a step forward, laying her hand against Oliver's arm.

"Oliver?" she prompted quietly, "Please say something."

A long moment passed before Oliver seemed to pull himself from his reverie. Finally he turned, slowly, to look at her, his expression unchanged.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, as though unsure of the word.

Grace dipped her head and nodded.

"…Yes."

"A baby?" Oliver clarified.

"Yes," Grace said again.

"You're sure?" Oliver's smoldering gaze seemed to suck the certainty right out of her, but Grace continued all the same:

"Not completely…I'll have to see a doctor-"

"But you think-" Oliver cut across, "You think…that you are?" His voice rose hopefully at the end, and Grace bowed her head, a small smile forming on her lips despite herself. She nodded.

"Yes."

"Grace…" Oliver closed the distance between them in one movement, taking her face into his hands and kissing her passionately, their previous quarrel diminished. He pulled away, beaming, and then kissed her again. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless.

"I'll call him," Oliver decided promptly, turning in the direction of his office.

"Who?

"The doctor, of course," he replied, as though this were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Oliver, wait-" Grace beseeched, taking a hurried step after him. Oliver stilled and turned impatiently.

"What is it?" he asked, smiling and pulling Grace to him once again.

"You're not…upset?" she wondered quietly. Her gaze searched his features, her own expression worried.

"Upset?" Oliver repeated, "Grace, I'm sorry I overreacted about this evening-"

"Not about that," Grace shook her head, her tone reserved, "About," she continued unsurely, "About having another child…About having a baby?"

Oliver stared at her, dumbstruck.

"Of course not," his expression turned tender, concerned. "Why on earth would I be upset?"

"Because, well you said- you said you didn't like children. And a baby, well…a baby is a huge responsibility," Grace continued, her eyes filling with tears, "And we've barely been married three months-"

"Sweetheart…" Oliver pulled Grace into a tight embrace and she began to cry in earnest. She hid her face in his chest and Oliver stroked her back soothingly, cursing himself for being such a fool. "Grace, I know that I've said things, in the past…" Oliver continued, "But things are different now. You…" he lifted her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, "And Annie…you changed all of that. I love you Grace. I love Annie, and I don't care whether we've been married three months or three weeks, nothing would make me happier than to have a baby with you."

Grace sniffed and pulled back to look up at him, eyes bright.

"You're sure?" she wondered. Her voice was timid and uncertain, but Oliver's was anything but as he took her hands in his own:

"Positive," he promised.

Grace gazed down at their joined hands and allowed herself to imagine the possibility of a baby with Oliver.

…She smiled.

* * *

><p>"It's Christmas, it's Christmas! Merry Christmas!"<p>

Oliver was jolted awake as a streak of red shot across the bedroom and scrambled unceremoniously onto the middle of the bed. A slightly smaller, tan blur followed shortly behind, leaping up to land squarely beside his master and barking excitedly at the commotion.

"Daddy Warbucks, it's Christmas!" Annie practically shouted, "And guess what, it's SNOWING!" The sturdy four-poster bed shook slightly as the little redhead wriggled about, and Grace, who had been curled against Oliver, stirred slightly and burrowed closer into his side to avoid the cold nudge of Sandy's nose as he licked at her happily. This did not escape Annie, who focused her attention on her mother expectantly.

"Mom!" Annie insisted excitedly, "Wake up! Come look outside, it's snowing!" Oliver chuckled and lunged forward, scooping Annie up to keep her from stomping all over Grace. Annie let out a shriek of delight and Oliver played along, tickling her until she dissolved into a fit of giggles. He cast a protective glance at Grace as she sat up gingerly- she had woken with an unsettled stomach every day for the past week, and Oliver knew by now that it was best to keep his distance in case she needed to dash for the washroom.

Feeling quite pleased that her stomach hadn't protested in her change of position, Grace smiled, opening her arms to the little girl, and Oliver relaxed slightly, releasing his hold on Annie as she scrambled towards her mother- a tangled mess of arms and legs and wild, curly red hair.

"Good morning, Annie," Grace laughed, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Annie giggled and snuggled into Grace. For the briefest of moments, there was absolute, contented silence; Grace and Oliver shared a knowing look over the top of Annie's head, and Oliver reached forward to squeeze Grace's hand lovingly. It quickly passed, however, as soon Annie was scrambling back over the edge of the bed, turning towards the pair of them and jumping up and down in excitement, before dashing from the room with Sandy, tail wagging, quick on her heels.

Oliver turned to Grace as Sandy's echoing barks faded away, reaching forward to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"Good morning…" he leaned forward to kiss Grace softly on the lips, "Merry Christmas."

Grace chuckled.

"Merry Christmas, indeed."

"How are you feeling?" he slid his hand up to rest upon Grace's still-flat stomach, and Grace smiled, placing her own hand over his upon the spot.

"A little nervous," she admitted. Two weeks had passed since the Christmas fundraiser. Two weeks since the doctor had confirmed that Grace was, indeed, pregnant.

"We don't have to tell her today," Oliver suggested, "We can wait."

"No," Grace shook her head thoughtfully, her gaze downcast as she twined her fingers with Oliver's own, "She'll know soon enough, and I don't want her hearing it from one of the staff…"

Oliver nodded and drew her nearer, pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead. Grace would be twelve weeks along by the new year, and -despite the bouts of morning sickness, despite the fatigue and the way Grace beamed whenever she found herself caught up in Oliver's adoring gaze- Annie had not yet caught on that she was going to become a big sister. Now, wrapped up in the secret, joyous excitement of it all, Christmas Day had snuck upon them almost as surprisingly as the news of a baby had. Grace sighed and relaxed into Oliver's embrace, a slight smile pulling at her lips as she felt his fingers absent-mindedly stroke her midsection.

The moment passed in bliss -but only a moment- for soon the wildly excited thud of footsteps on carpet met their ears as Annie charged back up the hallway and into their room.

"Mom! Come _see! _I've got _ice skates_!"

* * *

><p>In keeping with tradition, the staff that wasn't traveling for the holiday joined Oliver, Grace, and Annie for Christmas lunch, followed by ice skating on the frozen pond near the edge of the estate. Annie had never before worn ice skates, and was ecstatic to receive her very own pair amongst her Christmas gifts. She bounded through the pristine snow drifts, running in circles and peppering Grace with questions as they made their steady way towards the pond's frozen bank. Each of them was bundled up in a new shearling coat with matching hat and gloves, and together the trio laced their skates and made their way out onto the ice alongside Jack, Cecil, Annette, Saunders, and The Asp. Though Grace had joined the rest of the staff in this particular tradition several times over the years, Oliver had never before accompanied them. He was a surprisingly smooth skater -gliding over the ice with barely a tumble- lending speculation to the pleasant idea that this was not the first time that Oliver Warbucks had allowed himself a bit of fun. He took one of Annie's hands in his own while the little girl grasped at Grace with the other, and together they skated once around the pond until Annie found the hang of it.<p>

Once was really all it took, and soon the little girl was dashing madly between them on the ice. Her tongue stuck determinedly between her teeth as she chased after Jack, who laughed exuberantly as he turned circles, somehow always managing to stay one or two lengths ahead of her. Oliver kept a tight grip on Grace's hand while they skated, slightly worried that she would tumble as they made leisurely circles around the pond's edge- though she never did. After a short while, Oliver suggested a break- and knew that Grace was probably tiring when she didn't object. He led her to a sturdy log at the pond's edge and she sat down gratefully, looking on and clapping as Annie called after her to watch each trick, growing ever bolder.

Annie basked in Grace's affections, and -after a rousing chase of cat and mouse with Oliver- was soon beckoning for her mother to join them. She led Grace across the ice by the hand, enticing her to play, to watch her, to laugh and hug and pretend to give chase across the ice. So enthralled were they -mother and daughter- in each other's affections…Oliver knew that Grace would go to great lengths to please the little girl. He looked on at the two of them, smiling despite himself, and allowed himself to relax and talk pleasantly with the men at the edge of the bank as Annette and Cecil joined Grace and Annie as they played.

A few hours later, Oliver played cards with Annie in the dining room while Mrs. Pugh put the finishing touches on Christmas dinner. Grace had seemed a little pale when they'd come in from the pond, and Oliver, noticing this, had wisely offered to keep an eye on Annie so that she could nap. Grace hadn't argued, and Oliver had promised to wake her before dinner. Now, as Mrs. Pugh popped her head into the dining room and announced that dinner would be served in half an hour, Oliver surrendered his remaining cards to a triumphant Annie and stood to go and wake Grace.

The room was dark and quiet, and Oliver crossed its expanse to the bed, sitting carefully on its edge and looking on while Grace slept. She was beautiful, and he reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiled, still slightly incredulous that Grace was pregnant…They were going to have a baby, and yet -somehow- Oliver was already unable to imagine a time and a place in which they hadn't had this lovely, wonderful secret between them. A son, or a daughter. Oliver smiled again.

Grace had stirred at his touch; now, sitting up against the pillows, she ignored the slight wave of nausea that rolled across her empty stomach and smiled.

"Feeling better?" Oliver inquired.

"Much," Grace nodded and suppressed a yawn, leaning into him as he pressed a loving kiss against the top of her head.

They dressed for dinner and headed downstairs. Mrs. Pugh had pulled out all the stops, despite it only being the three of them. After all of the hubbub from the months previous, Christmas alone at the large home had sounded wonderful. They had debated inviting guests- Franklin and Eleanor perhaps, or Annie's friends from the orphanage- but news of Grace's pregnancy had consumed them from the moment that she had suggested the possibility, and in the end, they had both agreed that a quiet holiday was indeed in order.

The annual radio Christmas program played softly in the background, its music and commentary drifting in from the sitting room as Annie chattered happily. Beneath the linen tablecloth, Grace took Oliver's hand, and he gripped it reassuringly as they exchanged a contented smile.

Once dinner was finished, Grace looked to Oliver and he cleared his throat. Annie gazed at them as Grace and Oliver shared a knowing look, her expression curious as she sensed, in the way that children so often do, that something important was about to happen.

"Annie…" Oliver began. He looked to Grace for permission and she nodded, her eyes suddenly bright, and Oliver continued, "Annie…there's something we want to tell you, your mother and I."

Annie nodded slowly, her eyes wide.

"Annie," Oliver glanced at Grace, slightly unsure, but Grace was smiling tearfully and it seemed that this would be up to him, and so he forged ahead: "Annie, you know how your mother has been feeling tired, lately?"

Annie nodded again, turning to gaze expectantly at Grace.

"Well," Oliver hesitated, "Your mother has been feeling tired, these past few weeks because- because, well…"

"Annie," Grace leaned forward and smiled indulgently at the little girl, no longer able to control her excitement, "You're going to be a big sister."

There was a ringing silence in the dining room, broken only by the background noise of Burt Healy on the radio, as Annie stared between them. Finally, her gaze, eyes wide, settled on Grace.

"You're going to have…a baby?"

Grace smiled gently and nodded. Oliver look on with anticipation.

"I'm going to get-" Annie stared hard at Grace, as if working it through "-a little sister or brother?"

"Yes, Annie," Oliver nodded.

"I'm going to be a big sister!"

Grace laughed, a beautiful, loving sound, and swept the little girl into her arms as Annie charged across the table and into her embrace.

"A little brother or sister!"

"Yes, Annie," Grace nodded, laughing again, and now she was crying for real, and Annie was jumping up and down, and hugging Grace, and Oliver, and the three of them hugged each other, a little family that would soon become just a little bigger.

_"Leapin' Lizards!"_

Just off the dining room, inside the kitchen, Mrs. Pugh smiled to herself as Annie's exclamation reverberated throughout the estate. Though neither Grace nor Mr. Warbucks had yet made an announcement to the staff- Margaret Pugh knew a pregnancy when she saw one. With a smile still upon her lips, she hummed a self-satisfied little tune, and bent to pull the Christmas pies from the cooling rack.


End file.
